The Bishop and the Birthday Girl
by Evie Delacourt
Summary: Bishop Denis Arilan pays a visit to his favorite birthday girl, his grand-niece Stefania de Arilan, daughter of Seisyll and Sophie Arilan.


**The Bishop and the Birthday Girl**

_March 1139_

_Tre-Arilan_

The Bishop of Dhassa sat in a window embrasure at Tre-Arilan, a beautiful young lady with coal-black hair and blue-violet eyes curled up by his side. Not that the Bishop would have need to confess any unseemly conduct later, for the innocent young maiden enfolded in his embrace was his grandniece Stefania, recently turned twelve, and he had come to pay her a belated birthday visit.

Stefania had been elated by the Llannedd pony he had brought for her, and had swiftly forgiven him for his delay in arriving once she had understood that it had been caused by his desire to deliver her birthday present in person. They'd spent the morning riding the boundaries of Tre-Arilan's lands, but then a spring rainstorm had driven them home again. The twelve-year-old beside him was peering out at the falling rain impatiently.

"_Will _this rain never end, Uncle Denis? I am _so_ sick of rainfall!"

Denis Arilan chuckled. "That pony's not going to go anywhere, Steffie. She'll still be here long after I've gone back to Dhassa."

The maiden's eyes turned up to smile at him. "When _do_ you head back? I hope we have you at least a week!"

The bishop smiled. "Oh, not quite as long as that, I regret to say. But you'll have me a day or two longer." He gave her slim shoulders an affectionate squeeze. "So, you miss your old Uncle Denis when he's away, do you?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes." The sparkle in her dark violet eyes belied her deadpan expression. "When you're not in a scolding mood."

He laughed. "Now, Steffie, you must admit I rarely scold you. You're a sweet lass and hardly ever require it."

Stefania raised an eyebrow at him. "Uncle Denis, are you talking to the same Stefania de Arilan my father sired? Because I'm quite certain that's not how _he_ sees me!"

The bishop roared with laughter. "Fathers may perhaps be a little stricter than indulgent uncles, dearest. They have to be, after all." The laughter subsided to a wry smile. "Alas, the world is full of dangers for a spirited young maid such as yourself."

"Such as what?"

Denis Arilan turned a speculative eye on the maiden beside him. "Well, for one thing, you'll be of marriageable age almost before you know it. Certainly quite a bit sooner than any doting father is prepared for." A twinkle lit his eyes. "I know _I'm_ not prepared to fend off your hordes of suitors yet. Seisyll probably hopes to keep you sheltered for a bit longer."

"And you would agree?"

Denis turned his gaze out the window for a long moment. "To some extent, yes." He glanced back down at his grandniece. "On the other hand, though, I do believe there's such a thing as being overly sheltered, and I'd not wish that on you either."

"In other words, you'd have me be innocent, not ignorant." She smiled at Denis's surprised look. "That's how Mama puts it."

"Ah. Yes, I should have guessed. Your mother is a wise woman."

"I'm glad you approve," her daughter said pertly.

Denis chuckled. "I've always quite approved of Sophie. Sometimes even more so than I have of Seisyll or, God help us all, your uncle Sextus!"

The girl chortled. "Uncle Sextus isn't _that_ bad! You and Papa just keep him on far too short a leash."

The man snorted. "Yes, so he doesn't manage to hang himself with it!"

"I'll bet you were probably just as bad when you were younger. Or at least as bad as Papa was. I know Papa couldn't have been as much of a saint as he likes to let on; Mama says I'm God's laughing retribution for Papa's misspent youth."

Denis grinned at his spirited young grandniece. "I would strongly suggest you not remind your father of his own youth, or you're likely to find yourself locked away in a strong tower until he's secured you a husband."

"I shall avoid that like the plague, then." Her violet eyes sparkled with laughter. "And I've noticed you've neatly sidestepped the question of your own youth."

"Only because there's really not much to tell. Don't forget, darling one, that I entered holy orders at a young age, not all that far into manhood."

"Oh, of course! And we all know bad behavior ends with full manhood." Stefania gave her granduncle a wry smile. "And certainly once holy vows are spoken. Why, I'll bet you've not managed a proper sin in ages! Just the occasional half-hearted white lie or twelve..."

Denis Arilan chortled. "Stefania de Arilan, there's really no use trying to bait me. I'm afraid when it comes to romantic intrigues of my long-forgotten, mist-shrouded youth, I really was the most boring young man on the planet. No star-crossed love stories here, sweeting."

Stefania leaned back and studied her uncle with a speculative smile. "Now, did I _say _I was asking after your love life? No, I most certainly did not. You simply assumed that I was. Interesting. Of course, since it was a conversation about Sextus's and my father's misspent youths which led to this turn of conversation, your assumption _does _tend to imply certain things about their own...misbehavior?"

The bishop stared at his grandniece for a long moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "Child, does your father have you doing the King's work yet?"

The girl tilted her head at him, puzzled. "No. Why?"

Denis chuckled. "A pity. When you're older, he really should."

Stefania kicked her satin slippers off and tucked her stockinged feet demurely under her, an unconscious reflex that put him in mind of her mother. "But since you're raised the subject of your own love life, have you truly never been in love? Not even _once_?" Her gaze up at him was filled with curiosity.

The bishop shifted in his seat, looking mildly disconcerted. "Sweeting, I'm a priest. Surely you've not forgotten we're sworn to celibacy."

"Of course not. But that wasn't the question. The Church can forbid you from marrying; it can't really prevent you from having feelings, though, right?"

"Well, that's true enough, my little hair-splitter." Denis planted a tender kiss on the curious child's brow. "No, I've never allowed my feelings for any woman to grow to that extent. That would hardly have been fair, would it, to encourage feelings I'm forbidden to act upon?"

"But were there ever any you _might_ have fallen in love with, if you'd been free to?"

Denis laughed. "You are a very persistent little chit, you know that?" He sighed, looking out the window at the falling rain. "Maybe one or two, over the years." He turned to raise an eyebrow at her. "But I didn't," he added firmly. "And why the sudden curiosity?"

Stefania shrugged. "I don't know. As you said, I'll be marriageable in just a few years, and it's not very likely I'll end up in the convent life." She grinned. "Can you imagine me as a nun?"

The bishop laughed. "No, I can't honestly say that I could. Which is almost a shame, since your keen mind and wit would be an asset to the Church, but no, I hope you end up raising a healthy brood of brilliant children who will grow up to harass me instead. Or, better yet, to harass your father with all these questions. I will die a very happy man if _that_ happens."

The girl giggled, snuggling into her granduncle's warmth.

"A convent education would be quite an asset for a young lady with a mind as sharp as yours, though, even if you'd prefer to marry afterwards. In fact, that might make you even _more_ marriageable. Perhaps I should speak to your father about the possibility. Arc-en-Ciel isn't too far distant, and I suspect you might actually enjoy it, so long as you don't think anyone's trying to stuff you into a habit and force you into holy vows." Denis grinned as the girl wrinkled her nose at him. "And your little brothers couldn't follow you there."

"Well, all right, that's the only thing that could make me even _consider _the convent life!" Stefania joked. "But must you?"

Denis gave her a considering look. "It would be far better than marrying you off too young."

The girl sighed. "Oh, I know. Marry a girl too young, and she's likely to die trying to breed heirs too early; marry her too old, and she's likely to be more set in her own ways and less biddable for a new husband. But stick her in a convent for a few years until she's done ripening, and she's more likely to be both docile and hardy. Is _that_ it?" Stefania rolled her eyes at him.

Her granduncle gave a startled laugh. "Stefania de Arilan, you will _never_ be mistaken for docile! And we are discussing your education, not your suitability for…breed stock." He shook his head, grimacing in distaste.

"Well, there's my Deryni training to consider as well, don't forget. Could I continue that at Arc-en-Ciel?"

Arilan nodded thoughtfully. "It could be arranged. Though, come to think, a place among the Servants of Saint Camber in Rhemuth would probably be better suited for the purpose. Or Saint-Sasile's, but that's in Torenth, and I doubt Seisyll wants you that far afield yet."

"Well, if _I_ get any say in the matter, I'd rather be educated in Rhemuth," Stefania said.

Denis nodded. "Rhemuth life has definite advantages, though that would also mean you'd be more likely to come to the notice of prospective suitors all that much sooner. That could be either a good thing or a bad thing."

Stefania rolled her eyes. "Well, no matter where Papa puts me for the next few years, Ciaran MacArdry says he plans to offer for me once I'm old enough."

The bishop's dark brow rose. "Sir Jass's heir?" He eyed his grandniece, keen speculation in his eyes. "Does Seisyll know about this?"

The girl snorted. "No! Ciaran's just turned twelve also, not more than two months before me. He probably changes his fancies about as often as he changes his undergarments." She shrugged. "I shouldn't worry; he'll have long forgot about me by the time I've turned fourteen."

Denis chuckled. "Let's hope. Oh, he seems a decent enough lad, and looked to be coming along well in his squiring, last time I saw him. But I suspect you'll have much better offers someday than a mere knight's son."

"Oh?" Stefania's blue-violet gaze met his in challenge. "Even though I'm a mere knight's daughter?"

Denis shook his head. "No mere knight, my love. Sir Seisyll might simply be a landed knight in terms of rank, but in terms of personal service to the Haldane Kings, our House has been on closer terms than most with their Haldane overlords for several generations. A daughter of an Arilan—especially a bright, beautiful, and well-educated daughter who shows promise of being able to produce equally gifted children-will be looked at as quite a prize to be won. I would be greatly surprised if you didn't attract the notice of a few Earl's sons at the very least, if not higher."

Stefania gave her granduncle a sidelong smile. "Kelric Morgan is quite handsome."

Denis opened his mouth to speak, closed it again immediately. The girl giggled.

"What's the matter, Uncle Denis? He's a Duke's son, after all." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Or is it just that, when you start to consider actual individuals, no man alive is going to be good enough for me?"

"Stefania de Arilan, I'm an aging man, and I fear you're not very good for my heart!" Denis shook his head with a suppressed grin. "No, Kelric would…do, I suppose. Though I suspect the Duke of Corwyn has other plans for his heir." He sighed. "So, noticing handsome men already, are you?"

"Of course. I'm twelve, not dead. And don't even bother to pretend that you've never noticed a beautiful woman, even if you never mean to court one, because I won't believe you."

The bishop suppressed a smile. "All right, I won't. If I did, I'd have to add one more number to that count of half-hearted white lies you've accused me of."

The girl smiled winsomely up at him. "And who do _you_ think is the most beautiful woman in the Eleven Kingdoms?"

He laughed. "Stefania de Arilan."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Oh, not fair! I said woman; that implies marriageable age."

Her granduncle chuckled. "Only one? I'm a well travelled man, poppet. It's hardly fair to make me pick just one fair lady out of a lifetime of passing encounters with the Eleven Kingdoms' fairest and finest."

"All right then. Three."

Denis's dark violet eyes gleamed at the girl with barely suppressed mirth. 'This is another one of those topics you plan to cling to as tenaciously as a terrier, isn't it? All right…let's see…." He glanced out the window again, pondering the question. "Sofiana of Andelon…Richenda de Morgan, and…well, Catriona of Llyr was only moderately fair, but when she was engaged in a good debate, one tended to forget that." He smiled in wistful memory. "And now _your_ turn, young lady. Aside from Kelric, who else has caught your eye?"

Stefania blushed. Her granduncle laughed. "A bit uncomfortable when that question is coming from the other direction, isn't it?"

"All right." She took a deep breath. "They don't actually have to be eligible bachelors though, do they? I mean, you're just asking who I think is handsome, not who I want to marry, right? That's all I asked _you_, so turn about is fair play!"

"All right, agreed."

"Hm…." Stefania cocked her head, thinking. "Sir Jass, King Kelson, and…hm…maybe the Earl of Marley." She giggled.

"I see. All nice, safe choices-two older, married men and one quite likely to be off the market as well by the time you come of age. That was intentional, wasn't it?" Denis grinned knowingly at his young grandniece as her blush grew deeper.

"Maybe." The lass turned all too innocent eyes up at her indulgent Uncle Denis. "But does it really matter," she teased, "when I'm all but betrothed to Ciaran MacArdry?"

Denis snorted. "Well, _that's_ for your father to decide someday, not me, thank God! Fortunately the lad's only twelve, and childhood promises aren't legally binding."

"That's true." Stefania glanced out the window and brightened. "Oh, look, the rain's stopped! Can we go riding again now?"

"If it will spare me from your inquisition, yes!" Denis Arilan stood, offering Stefania a hand up. She slipped her feet back into her slippers and rose to follow him.

"Let me change back into my riding gear, then!" She blew him a kiss and ran up the stairs to her bedchamber.

#

Stefania studied the braided ring of chestnut hair. "Not legally binding, is it?" She shrugged, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a faint smile as she put the ring back in her keepsake box, closing the lid gently to hide it. "I suppose he'll have to try again someday, when he's older. I _might_ be willing to be persuaded…unless I get a better offer…." Her mischievous smile grew as she tucked away her secret into the hidden corners of her mind and ran back downstairs to join her beloved Uncle Denis.


End file.
